Day of the Triff. . . Transfusion

Since we had done all the shopping the previous day, Nick stayed home to work and I took the taxi to the hospital. The nurses were laughing that the driver called me Margot, as opposed to Mme. Bentley. "I've know him since he was eleven," I said.

The 11-year-old is now an ambulance driver, on the town council, head of the Youth Committee and various other things. Good thing I know longer mind being old. But I digress. . .

Another digression: the Bentley is because when we were issued with new health cards, mine was 6 or 8 months in arriving. When it had Nick's name on it, I was afraid to send it back for fear it would never show up, again. So I'm Bentley to the health system and my newer doctors.

Anyway, Stephane picked me up at 6:45. The boulangerie wasn't open, yet, and I had a yen for a croissant all the way to the hospital. The instant I entered the building, my stomach turned. Nevertheless, when the dietician came around to see what I wanted for lunch (whee! You get a choice if you arrive at 8), I gave her the order. At lunch time, I could barely look at the tray. I said I'd try the dessert because sometimes sweet things go down better. It did, but she'd left the tray and I could smell the food. So I reparied to the bathroom to decide if I was going to throw up or not. Not; I controlled myself.

This food thing is just so ridiculous. I know it's psychological and still I can't eat. I could barely eat when I came home. Except sweet things, so it's not even as if it's doing my weight any good. Maybe if I knew what it psychological about.

I came out of the bathroom, saw the dietician in the hall and she took the tray away. I opened the window for a little air. Then I scratched an itch on my right arm. Mosquito bite. During the day? Tough mosquito. Then I found another bite on the left side of my waist. Then one on my stomach. Then my back itched.

The light dawned and I called the nurse. Apparently, although I didn't have one last time, allergic reactions to transfusions are not uncommon. Whatever they gave me gave instant relief and also put me to sleep, again. I'd slept all morning, waiting for the platelets to arrive. I am not a natural early riser.

I saw Dr. Séreiné and discussed my other doctor visits with her. Funny, she also had that same odd look on her face as Dr. Leriche when I said I'd been canoeing.

Finally, Stephane came to get me and I came home and slept for another four hours.

When I was leaving and reaching for my purse and medical records on the floor next to the bed, I hit my head on the table. But I have platelets now, so I didn't die.

Colds, Blood Tests & HIV

Turns out I have a cold. Not too bad a one, but it wears me out. I was thrown off by the fever Sunday night. The last fever I remember having was when I had a mega case of the flu at age 15 or so, which means that if I've had any more recently, they couldn't have amounted to much.

Blood results came back. White stuff is doing O.K.; red stuff needs to get its act together. Protein C Reactive is up (right; I'm sick) and CA-125 is down to 66.60!

My new chemo appointment is for Monday and I have to have more blood drawn on Friday. As well as -- get this:

When I had the transfusion, I was given a paper to tell me that, while the odds were against it, it was possible to be infected from the blood. Nothing very specific.

Yesterday, I received a letter and a prescription in the post. The letter explains that, since I had a transfusion, the prescription is for another blood test to check for antibodies. (We still have not mentioned HIV.)

First rate service, don't you think? Or are follow-up blood tests normal everywhere after transfusions?

Red-blooded American

Here is what you do for a transfusion. You get up at 5:45 am (pushing it, but Nick is feeding the animals) so you can leave Rémuzat at 6:30 and get to the hospital in Montélimar by 8:00.

The nurses put you in a room, check to make sure you are who they think you are (name, maiden name, married name, address, date of birth), take your blood group card, and telephone the lab where they will "make" the platelets. (What does that mean?)

The lab starts to work and, when they are finished, they send the platelets to Montélimar. The lab is at the main départementale hospital in Valence, the Préfecture (kind of the capital) of the Département.

Then you hang around, sleeping, reading and yawning at the nurses when they come to take your temperature and blood pressure every forty-five minutes. Then lunch: not the dreaded ham today, but absolutely the worst fish cake I've ever eaten. Or didn't eat.

The platelets arrived at 12:30 and the transfusion took no time at all.

Arriving home, the post contained my blood test results from Wednesday; my platelets were down to 20. Now why is my C-Reactive Protein count, which has been completely normal, suddenly risen -- to 11.9 and then 22.8?

Meanwhile, my nose has stopped bleeding and I feel like a new -- or the old -- woman.

The Cells are Winning. . . or Losing

Went to the doctor yesterday evening, waited through four patients who beat me to it, only to find that the lab hadn't faxed through the results of my blood test. Sigh.

Dr.Martin (GP) renewed my prescriptions before we go on vacation and said she'd call Dr. Litor (oncologist) in the morning. Dr. M. phoned Nick this morning and said my platelet count was a bit low.

A bit? Next call was from the hospital with instructions to come in for a transfusion tomorrow. At 8 am. Good practice for getting up at 4 am for our Yahoo group's Not So Secret Santa. Since we're part way between the U.S. and Australia, I get the tough time slot. I'd walk a mile for a Christmas present.

Anyway, Nick can go to Avignon to set up for the exhibition that starts Saturday by himself. After dropping me off at the hospital.

This is supposed to be a dog blog, right? Check your dog's dewclaws! Nala has been licking one paw for the last 3 days. I thought it was the usual itch and told her to stop. Last night I decided to look. Her right, front dewclaw had grown in a circle, pierced her skin and kept growing. Infected lump.

We went to the groomer in the summer. I've been grooming her. But obviously not well.

This afternoon we went to the vet
who cut the claw, dug out the lump, put some antisceptic on it, and sent us home with an Elizabethan Collar and five days worth of antibiotics. Poor thing hardly whimpered.

Nala also has another entropion in her right eye -- as well as ectropion. More drops. More cleaning. The right eye is pretty much opaque, again. Half blind.

She didn't lick the paw, again, when we took off the collar, so I'm leaving her in peace.

Twenty minutes into the examination and treatment, the vet began to sneeze. After the fourth time, I asked, "Cold or allergy"? "Cold," she said.

We of the non-functioning immune system persuasion promptly shoved the chequebook and papers at Nick and said good-bye. I hope I got out of there in time.


The picture is of Nala and her rec bone. She may be learning.